Page 13 of Choices

"I assume the man that did that to you is dead?" She asks.

I give Rico a look, pleading with him to explain. He simply shakes his head at me and nods towards Hannah. This is my conversation to have. I go back to my phone."My mother. And yes."

The mechanical voice speaks and I watch as her entire body reacts to my words. She stares up at me, fear and pity in her eyes. Now it's her turn to be stunned. Her mouthopens and closes a few times, processing what to think.

"How could a mother..." she whispers to herself. Her eyes find mine again. "I'm so sorry." She looks at me with an intensity I'm not used to. Her breath shakes and her lower lip wavers. Oh God, please don't tell me she's about to cry.

I simply nod in thanks.

"Why..." She whispers, but stops herself, looking up at me with large, unsure eyes. My hand itches to reach out and touch the soft skin of her cheek. "No. Doesn't matter. You didn't deserve it."

I drop my hands to my phone instead.

"She was sick. Schizophrenia I think.(Fuck that took some creative spell check. I'd never finished High School).She was paranoid and convinced people were coming to get us. That it was better to die by our own hands. She slit my throat and then her own wrists."I pause. There is so much more to the story, but this version will have to do."I survived. She didn't."

Her mouth opens and closes a few more times. She shifts her weight towards me and away from me a few times. She's processing. Caught between the things she wants to do and the things she knows she shouldn't do. Her body leans towards me and her fingers twitch as if she wants to hug me.

So I misdirect her.

I type again. It’s annoying how long it takes to type out complicated stories. That’s why I stick to only the essentials with Rico and Matty.

"I managed to hang on andget out into the street. That's where Rico found me and had his driver take me to the nearest hospital. A few hours of surgery and I survived."

I look at Rico. The look in his eye tells me he's remembering that day. He wasn't much older than me, twenty while I was sixteen, but he leaped into action without question. He'd whipped off his shirt and tied it gently around my neck, screaming at his driver to get us to the nearest ER. I was losing consciousness when they wheeled me in but I remember hearing him threaten the nurses, the doctors, and the surgeons that if I didn't make it he was going to ruin entire families.

It turns out, he was next in line for the Colombian mafia in DC but was back in Bogota visiting family when I just happened to stumble into the road, right in front of his car.

I owed him my life.

Coming back to the present, I look down on the beautiful woman in front of me. She takes a deep breath in and out as I watch a thousand thoughts filter through her face.

Finally, she tosses the dirty rag in the sink before I can see her deciding that mom mode is the safest option. "You've been mute since you were sixteen and never learned American Sign Language?" I can't help myself but smile. I've murdered hundreds of men, I make babies cry when they look at me, and she's chastising me for a lack of education.

It's been ten years since I've spoken. And honestly, I haven't minded. I find that I have little if anything important to say. And because I never talk, people tend to ignore me. Which suits me just fine. I've never liked attention, neverwanted to be noticed. I get to observe, react, and follow orders.

So, I never missed my voice until I saw her that night.

Her tiny gasp, plush lips parted, eyes wide-look when Rico pulled the trigger on that piece of shit was a masterpiece.

I wanted to hold her, to shield her from what she'd just seen. Her fair skin, her leggings, her curves are too innocent for the dark parts of our city. To tell her it would all be alright, and that she didn't need to fear me. I'd never hurt her. But I couldn't. So I just watched Rico walk away with her and prayed he understood the look I gave him.

I type on my phone."I've never needed it."She reads it before rolling her eyes.

"You deserve to be understood, Santiago. You deserve communication. What if you don't have your phone on you?"

She.Rolls.Her.Eyes. I've killed men for less.

But with Hannah? It makes me want to toss her over my knee and spank her ass raw. Fuck, I bet she'd look amazing with my red handprint on her fair skin. My cock jumps at the thought of her wet pussy, bared for me, while her body lies prone over my lap.

Fuck, I need to reel it in.

My smile widens because when does anyone not have their phone on them? Instead, I type out."How do you know ASL?"

"Aiden didn't really have a speech delay, but he was slow to talk. Learning baby ASL was a thing of survival, really. He'd get so frustrated if he wanted something but couldn't ask for it he'd have epic meltdowns. It started with learning some basic signs for 'milk', 'water', 'all done', 'more'. Things like that. Then as the kids got older, we'd watch ASL YouTube videos in the mornings while we were eatingbreakfast. It was educational, and a way to keep them occupied early in the morning while I main-lined coffee. And we just kept it up. Even though we're hearing, it has come in useful if we need to talk long-distance or in a loud room."

I watch her hips sway as she moves around her kitchen with the elegance of a dancer. My hands twitch again, but this time with an urge to wrap them around her hips and drag her against me, bury my face in her hair, breathe her in.

She leaves us alone in the attached living room, staring at each other. Rico can read me like an open book. We've never needed ASL to communicate. I avoid looking at him, lest I give too much away.

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